The 7th

A life is gone,
a fighter, a light.
Tears get back into my eyes,
a sudden feeling of impatience,
while a subdued world flows by.
People kill the people,
then music,
adios.
Thirteen percent,
notes on the wall,
a straight existence.
I am proud of who I am.
I will love to love you,
Mfmfmfmfmfmmfffmfm.
Slam it!
As the trees whisper in my ears
I’m lost in the forest.
I am sure that one day I will find the light,
while he slowly murmurs that he loves me,
I know that you lied.
An organ plays in the background,
I don’t need you.
You expect something I can’t give.
She drinks, she drinks, she drinks,
she drinks.
Clocks are ticking,
our world ruled by time,
your smile high above me.
In the sudden loneliness of the 8th,
your illusions, the dreams that you think they’re broken,
the shame you feel.
I don’t care about it,
as the forest gets brighter you’re just a shadow in the blinding shade,
and you cried your desperation,
I’ve chosen the other path.
I get drunk,
I forget your face,
in the fog, in the light.

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Informazioni su erikberti

It's frankly hard to describe myself in this little space, but I'll try to do my best: I'm 29, graduated in fashion and design. I love to write tales and novels and to study languages... I love words, their meaning, their importance, the deepest emotions that they can create when they are close to each other, the stories one can tell with words. Yes, stories. I'm obsessed by the infinite number of stories that can be told.
This is my personal diary, I will post poetries, writings and streams of consciousness, that will be probably gathered together in a collection.
Thank you for following my dream!